#although nothing warned me about the flipping reputation points cap last time

[hurricanek8art]

YES SWTOR BOUNTY CONTRACT WEEK IS COMING BACK IN TWO WEEKS.

MUST GRIND REPUTATION.

My Knight was CHEATED out of keeping the sleen she tamed in KotFE Chapter 12. She NEEDS the Desert Sleen mount. I don't care if it doesn't make sense for her to have it, she needs it. I have spoken. 😠

[impracticaldemon]

Traffic Duty

Hakuouki fanfiction by impracticaldemon for Eliz1369 ~  Happy Birthday!

PART II of the Okita-Chizuru story Parking Ticket, in which Detective Okita Souji was demoted to traffic duty both as a punishment, and in order to go under cover to locate a mysteriously missing murdered man.

Summary:  In Traffic Duty, Okita discovers that the policewoman who got him into trouble in the first place - by being right about ending a police pursuit - has been given the task of making him maintain his cover role by performing his duties as a traffic cop.  But things heat up even before they hit the streets, when Okita begins to suspect his new partner of withholding information critical to the investigation.

Traffic Duty

“You’re Yukimura, right?”

Sōji eyed the young policewoman with more attention than he’d given her the first time they’d met. He was more observant than most people realized, but the circumstances had been less than optimal.

“Yes, Detective—that is, Okita-san.”  She ducked her head apologetically.  “Please excuse me for not using your proper rank, sir, but I was instructed not to give away your cover as a member of the regular forces.”

“I don’t care either way, but that’s ridiculous.  If it’s a small-scale operation, it will sort itself out whether they know who I am or not—plus, I doubt they’d have ears on us here in the station.  If it’s something worth my time, then there’s a good chance they already know me.”  

He turned away, fighting the urge to vent his bad mood on the too-serious Yukimura.  He was pretty sure the whole ‘traffic cop as cover story’ thing had been set up just to irritate him, but that wasn’t her fault.  To his surprise, since she seemed rather timid, Yukimura pursued the issue.

“Most respectfully, Okita-san, it seems useful to me to retain any advantage we might have.  And even if you are recognized, it is not—that is, I’m told it is not—entirely unbelievable that this is an actual punishment detail for you, rather than a covert operation.”

Sōji shut his teeth on an expletive before looking back at her.  If his expression scared her a bit, too bad; at least he was being civil.  Besides, it irked him that she was right.  He brought his hands together in silent applause.

“You have a point there, Yukimura, good job.”

To his dismay, his new ‘partner’ gave him a tentative smile.  He groaned inwardly.  This was what came of being too polite; people like her took it the wrong way and tried to get to know him.

“Thank you, Okita-san. Welcome to the station.  I hope we will work well together.”  She bowed, then picked up a take-away cup from the counter behind her, and held it out to him.  What was with this kid?  She had to know she’d gotten him into trouble, and he’d made it pretty clear he didn’t want to be here.  Plus, his reputation usually preceded him.

“I don’t like coffee,” he snapped.  That was stretching the truth, but good enough for an overly-helpful and temporary working acquaintance.  Besides, even Hajime-kun had been known to (silently) agree with Shinpachi’s declaration that the stuff he drank could no longer be called coffee.

Yukimura looked cast down for a moment, but persevered.  “I—I inquired into your preferences, Okita-san, and the coffee has extra cream and triple sugar.”

He stared at her.  Big brown eyes, way too innocent and hopeful for any kind of cop; trim figure, a bit on the smallish side, in a buttoned-to-the-collar regulation uniform; dark hair, neatly pinned up under her peaked cap. Nothing to indicate that she was trying to attract, seduce, or play up to him.  He hated not being able to identify a person’s motivations.

“Are you a waitress, or a cop?  I’m not here because I want to be, or because I think anything will turn up.  If you’d bothered to listen to the gossip about me, you’d know that I’m not out to be buddies with anyone, especially a kid who’s never worked a major crime in her life.”

Yukimura bowed again, small hands still clasping the rejected coffee.  Sōji found he had to squelch an unusual sense of guilt, but told himself she’d be better off learning to be less… less personal… with her colleagues.  He ignored the feeling that Hajime-kun would be looking disapproving right about now—his partner was a good man in a fight, and he trusted him to the hilt, but he had his flaws.

“I apologize if I offended you, Okita-san. Please come this way, I was told to discuss the details of this assignment with you before we went on duty.” She was apparently more composed than he’d thought.  He could usually get a read on just about anyone, if he bothered to try, but although his instincts said she was upset, the set to her shoulders suggested irritation rather than tears.  Not that he cared.

They made their way into a small meeting room, and Sōji was relieved to see a file on the table with his name on it. He flipped it open, hoping for updated information on the missing body, then sighed, and ran his eyes over his new patrol route.  His not-nearly-temporary-enough official job was to be on the lookout for traffic infractions and major parking violations, especially those that impeded emergency vehicle zones and public transportation.

When he looked up from the file, he automatically reached for his coffee and took a long swig.  It wasn’t bad, though he preferred it hotter. Then he glared at his deceptively innocent-looking companion, who had obviously put the cup down beside him the moment he wasn’t paying attention.  After a few seconds of that, he decided to ignore the whole coffee skirmish, so that they could get on to the more important part of the briefing.

“Okay, so I’ve got the gist of my cover.  I figure you’ll handle any actual stuff for Traffic, and I’ll just keep an eye on you in the unlikely event somebody tries to get at you.  What I want to know—”

“I apologize for interrupting, Okita-san, but my instructions were to ensure that you handled all aspects of the job.  Otherwise, it would be clear that I wasn’t training you.”

He leaned across the scarred wooden table, and used his height to glower down at her.

“Officer Yukimura.  I know for a fact that a suspicious individual drove off from the scene of a shooting, in a highly identifiable car, carrying the swiss-cheese version of a corpse.  I know that said car drove through the intersection at which you were stationed.  I know that you gave me the signal for ‘do not pursue’, but to be honest, I assumed you got the signal wrong.  You directed me to turn right, when the fleeing vehicle was going straight, and at that point I admit I stopped paying attention.  I was trying to overtake a probable murderer and the evidence of his crime, and you seemed like an idiot.  I want to hear your version of events—you were a little vague at the time of the incident.”

Despite his attempt at outright bullying, there was a stubborn set to Yukimura’s lips that boded ill for both of them.  “I would be happy to discuss the case with you, Okita-san.  We just need to go over the patrol route first—I have a few extra details to pass along about the neighbourhood, and what we do.”

Okita crossed his arms so as not to bang a fist on the table.  Like hell he was going to listen to the warblings of the local Neighbourhood Watch Association, and all the petty information that was important to Yukimura’s job, not his.

“You seriously expect me to play traffic cop?  Do I at least get to drive, or is that too much to ask for a lowly officer like myself?”

It was a dumb gibe, since ranking officers usually didn’t do the driving, but Yukimura finally looked a little panicked.  “I think you must already know this, Okita-san, but my division patrols on bicycle, or on foot, depending on the exact area and problems expected.”

“Ah, so if we spot any potential gangsters, or wanted murders, then we’ll pedal madly in pursuit! I think there’s some anime about the power of the pedal, isn’t there?  Never watched much of that kind of thing myself, but I have a colleague who does. It’s all too rah rah and cheerful for me.”

“Anime is not necessarily known for being cheerful, Okita-san.  Um, I mean—”

“Oh, you like anime, too? Well, I suppose it’s okay for kids like you and Heisuke.”  If she’d known him better, the sudden gleam in his green eyes would have warned her that he knew just how to wind up anyone who cared about anime.  As it was, she suspected him of making fun of her, but wasn’t sure what points to argue.

“I don’t watch a lot of anime, because so much of it is dark, disturbing, or violent!  Some of the artwork is nice, I suppose, but there isn’t a lot of anime suitable for children.”

“Awwwwww…  Well, how about slightly serious historical dramas then? But not too serious, because true love must triumph over annoyances like money and power.  You ever notice how they rarely have epilogues for those shows?” He snickered.

“Is Okita-san a fan of historical drama?”

“No!  Oh for the gods’ sakes, what the hell are we even talking about?!”

Yukimura took a deep breath. “We will not be pedalling after—or running after—any gangsters or murderers, Okita-san.  Assuming we come across anything, you will be contacting Detective Saitō, and then your headquarters, and I will be taking notes.  The problem last time was that we missed certain details—”

“Such as?”

“Well…”  Yukimura pulled a map from the folder she hadn’t left sitting out for him.  

Where did she get that? Ah—he could see that there was a semi-concealed, spring-latched drawer on each side of the table.  Convenient if you wanted something handy, but out of sight, or had to leave in a hurry and needed a quick place for your notes.  Most people would know about the drawers, of course, but ‘out of sight, out of mind’ was surprisingly effective—for a lot of things, anyway.

“Oi—why didn’t you give me that from the start?”  He cranked up the glower again.

“Because I was told to focus on your cover first, and the case second—in case you ignored the first part!”

Were her cheeks a little red?  He was finally getting to her.

“Right, got it.  Look, aside from our slight disagreement about what I’ll be doing, I don’t think there will be a problem with our so-called work.”  Leaning forward, and holding her gaze, Sōji rattled off a summary of their assigned route, the major landmarks and hazards—he was curious about a bookstore with the notation ‘does not sell books—dislikes customers’—and the heavy-traffic areas. He then pointed out the key emergency and public transportation lanes, and finished with an overview of the two low-income housing projects, which were prone to drug and prostitution problems. In deference to his desire to move things along, he didn’t add his usual comment that the high-income neighbourhoods had far more serious problems, but got to pay society in tabloid stories and ‘contributions’ to public salaries, rather than jail time.

Yukimura was visibly impressed, but it suddenly dawned on Sōji that he’d been showing off—which wasn’t his usual style.  Never let anyone see your whole hand.  He covered his discomfort by stabbing a finger into the map the girl had set between them.

“So?  Tell me about the case.  What did we miss?”

To her credit, she stopped staring at him immediately, and got with the program.

“Well, that particular area has automatic weighing scales at two hard-to-miss points, to ensure that only light trucks use the streets that are mixed residential-commercial.  The car didn’t set off any alarms, of course, but if you get there fast enough there’s a video record of all vehicles, with the digital weight shown beside them.  We were able to find and compare the weights of the car at the two points and it was definitely lighter by the time it hit the checkpoint just past the intersection where I was stationed after we got word of the chase.”

Ah—that would be the intersection where Sōji had ignored her clear, but apparently useless signals, in order to pursue, pull over, and—in the words of the complaint—harrass a prominent citizen without due cause in order to uncover absolutely nothing of interest in the man’s trunk or backseat.  The way the guy had grinned at him made it a cinch that Sōji hadn’t gotten the wrong car, but the police force had been officially embarrassed, and that was that.

“So we have a potential lead for where the body was transferred.  Good thinking.”  All business now, Sōji frowned.  “But you said you discovered this after the fact.  So how did you know I was following the wrong guy at the time of the pursuit?”

For the first time, Yukimura—what was her first name again?—looked a little shifty.  Or she would, if her face were able to express anything so sordid.  Honestly, he could see her in Hello Kitty pajamas with little pink bows on the sleeves. …And where did that come from?

“Um, well, Okita-san, I just… I just knew.  The driver of the car was far too care-free for a man with a body in the trunk.”

Sōji’s mind switched from Hello Kitty nightwear to the utter garbage this girl was suddenly trying to feed him.

“Bullshit.  No rookie traffic cop would try to signal an unmarked police car away from a hot pursuit on a hunch.  Is this seriously the line you gave your boss?  And they’re mad at me?”

“Well—well—it’s not just that—um, you see, I’d seen a hearse turn at the lights shortly before the sportscar, and it seemed suspicious!”

“Why?  What made it suspicious?”

“Er… well… there was no procession?”

“Duh, lots of hearses travel on business picking up stiffs from homes and hospitals and so on. Hell, maybe the mortician was out looking for donuts and a coffee.”

“No, he only drinks tea, and his partner is forcing him to watch his weight right now.”

“Come again?”

“Um, I mean, we do deal with the undertakers quite often, you know, because of funerals, and of course there are several, but I’ve gotten to know them, and only one of them—because he owns the business—sometimes goes out for coffee in the hearse.  Only, he doesn’t drink coffee.”

She was babbling, and they both knew it.  Sōji walked around the table, and perched himself right beside the struggling policewoman.  He leaned down into her face, which was undeniably red, and stared silently at her until she met his gaze.

“Cut the crap, and tell me what you know.  Otherwise I’ll refuse to work further with you on the grounds that you’re hiding something from the police about this case.”

“Okita-san!”

“Yes, Officer Yukimura? Care to try me?”  It was a sign of how serious he was that Sōji didn’t smirk at the possible innuendo.

“I know this whole neighbourhood very well.  I’m a—a community liaison officer.”

“Goody for you.”

“The car you were following—I recognized the driver as one of our recent trouble-makers.  He’s rich—or his father is—but his friend is even richer, and I have a feeling—"

“Like the one about the hearse being suspicious?”

Her face darkened, but she ignored him.  He was impressed, despite himself.  He’d gotten into her space, and as uncomfortable as she was, she was still fighting.

“I think they’re trouble. They’ve been in the neighborhood for just over six months, and our general crime rate’s been rising steadily, and too fast to be coincidence—”

“Do you suspect drugs? That was the case I was following.” Great, now he was talking to her like a real cop, instead of a glorified meter-maid with hunches and feelings about serious crimes.

“Yes, I suppose drugs could be part of it.”  She said it almost casually, as though dangerous drugs weren’t already way above her pay grade and experience.

Frustrated, Sōji leaned in even further.  He knew the kind of effect he had on people, especially impressionable young women.

“Spill.”

The girl stood up abruptly, faster than even Sōji’s reflexes could account for.  Predictably, the back of her head caught the point of his jaw, and they both stumbled.  Funny really. He could usually see these things coming a mile a way.  It was probably her weird conversation—it had distracted him.

“Holy mother of a duck that hurt!”  Gingerly testing his chin and lower lip with his fingers, Sōji glared at his assailant. “You really do have rocks in your head, don’t you?!”

“Aaaah!  I’m so sorry!  I’m so sorry!”

There was a sharp rap on the door.

“Yukimura-kun?”

The door opened immediately to admit a big man with all the hallmarks of an old-school cop, starting with his build, and ending with a nose that had clearly been broken more than once. He was sizing up Sōji the way a protective older brother might eye his youngest sister’s bad-boy date.

Yukimura hurried to put a smile on her face.  “I’m fine, Shimada-san!  Um, um, Okita-san was looking at the m-map with me, and I moved too quickly, and we bumped heads!”

Wait—why was she lying for him?  He’d been a bit of an asshole, and she’d reacted to him invading her space.  Not that he trusted her answers yet, by a long shot, but she was a cop (somehow), and he was treating her like he’d treat a suspect.

“Hmm.”  Dark, thoughtful eyes assessed Sōji from a height that easily topped his own unusually tall five foot ten.  “I understand.  I apologize for interrupting, sir.”  He nodded to Sōji, and gently closed the door behind him. Or Sōji thought he had, until he reappeared briefly to add:  “Yukimura-kun is one of our best analysts, Okita-san.  She is currently working in a couple of field areas in order to give her more insight into how data is gathered, and how best to train our future investigators.”

The moment the door was firmly shut again, Sōji narrowed his eyes at Yukimura.  It occurred to him—for no apparent reason—that he’d been glaring at the kid for most of the time they’d known each other.

“More mysteries, Officer Yukimura?  I read your file and—”  No, wait, he hadn’t read her complete file.  He’d been suspicious of her, so he’d checked her out, but there’d been a lot going on, and it hadn’t been a priority.

“Okita-san?”

“And anyway, why did you lie for me?  I told you, I don’t need any favours.”

Yukimura reddened again, but murmured, “…I thought it would be complicated and take too long to explain…”

“I guess.  So back to your highly-accurate suspicions and the hearse and so on.”  He made a ‘come on, hurry it up’ gesture.

“The man you were chasing was Shiranui Kyo—”

“Yeah, I know—highly identifiable guy in a bright red sports car.  He was carrying guns, but had a permit—though I’d love to know who he bribed for it.  Car’s not his.”

“Right, so, as I was saying, we’ve had cause to suspect a problem, but nothing tangible.  But it means I tend to, um, pay attention, when I see him around.”

“Oh?  It’s not just the long hair and tattoo?”

“No—that is, he does stand out, I suppose, but that’s not the point.  Except that maybe that’s why they use him for distraction, don’t you think?” She ignored, or didn’t notice, any personal implications.  Grudgingly, Sōji came to the conclusion that she was focussed on her story—or was such a pro that he couldn’t tell she was lying.  Gods, if she was a pro, he’d eat his hat.  He glanced sourly at the uniform cap he’d tossed onto the table—he wasn’t looking forward to wearing that again.  Unaware of his bizarre inward musings, Yukimura had continued with her story—or thoughts—or feelings.

“The thing is, about a month ago, something strange happened.  Most of the new crime has involved property theft, although the scope has ranged from wallets to full-scale house clear-outs.  In this case, some unusual, and expensive, scientific equipment was stolen, and although the perpetrator was spotted leaving the scene of the crime, in a red sports car, when we finally pulled the man over, the car was empty.”

“Okay?”  But she had his attention, now.

“So when the report came in about your case—that there had been multiple shootings, and a probable murder, and you were in pursuit—I was paying close attention.  More than I would anyway, I mean—um, that sounded wrong…”

“Why?  I mean what made you pay special attention other than a mere shooting and probable murder?”  He really couldn’t help the irony.

“Because something was bothering me about the original crime—the one with the science equipment—but I couldn’t explain exactly what.  Fortunately, I’d figured it out by the time you arrived in pursuit this time.”

Sōji waved at her impatiently to continue—again—trying not to wince as he replayed the rest of the scenario in his head.  The truth was, he’d written off her signals, and then gotten the Department into a legal brangle with the Shiranui guy over the way he’d dragged the punk out of his car. Dragged him, my ass.  The guy’d been smirking at him the whole time.

“Well, you see, the exact same hearse made the exact same turn on the day the scientific equipment was stolen.  And… that alerted my suspicions.”

Sōji suddenly felt a little better.

“So you did still signal me to change directions on nothing but a hunch.”  When she hesitated, he cuffed her lightly on the shoulder.  “Aw, come on, I’ll admit it was a hunch backed up by a strong coincidence.  And I probably should have stopped.”

“Well, there was one more thing to back up my… my hunch.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t recognize the hearse.”

“And you recognize every hearse in this city?”  He grinned at her, hoping a more friendly look would finally convince her to come clean.

“Well no…”

“I didn’t think so—”

“But I do know most of them.”  When he looked skeptical, she shrugged.  “I have a good memory for, um, details.”

“You pay attention to hearses?”

“Er…”

She wasn’t a good liar. But Sōji couldn’t imagine what she could be hiding, and wherever her guess about following the hearse had come from, there was just enough, barely, to make it worth looking into.

“So, to sum up, you saw the same guy, driving hell bent for leather in the same direction as in crime one—the science equipment—and you saw the same hearse—you think—turning in the same direction as in crime one, and that made you try to direct me away from the sports car and in the direction of the hearse?”

Yukimura appeared to be thinking hard.  What was so hard about it?  She had him half-convinced there might be a connection, and he’d stopped making fun of her—mostly.

“Oh! And there was one other thing!”

“…Okay?”

“The license plate of the hearse was unreadable both times.  It was all covered in dust and mud.  But the rest of it was really clean, as you’d expect in a business like that.  So it looked deliberate.”

Sōji rolled his eyes.

“Why didn’t you start with that?  I mean it’s small, but it’s highly suspicious.  It’s the kind of concrete stuff prosecutors love in court—or when we need a judge’s order to examine private property.”

He almost shook his head when he saw the girl’s expression.  Her eyes were shining as though he’d given her a commendation, instead of less praise than she probably deserved.

“Well then, let’s get to it.”

Silence.

“But, um, I’m sorry, Okita-san… We’re supposed to follow my regular patrol schedule, not go—”  She trailed off abruptly, no doubt because he’d turned to bang his head against the wall.

“Did you—does Hajime-kun—Detective Saitō—know all this?”

She hesitated. “Mostly?  I assume?  I mean, the summary of all this is in my final report…  Except I’m not sure I added the bit about the license plate—because… because your questions are what made me suddenly remember about that.”

“Just to be clear: everyone but me has a copy of your final report, which is the folder in front of you, which you were told to discuss with me only after we’d discussed my duties as a traffic cop.”

Sōji kept his face to the wall for a little longer.  He wanted to murder somebody, preferably Hijikata, and he suspected—call it a hunch!—that it showed on his face.  When he finally turned around, he was all business, and he saw the optimism rise again in Yukimura’s pretty face.  He still had the sense that something was off, but until he knew more, he was going to do what he was told, mostly.  Besides, that in itself would make Hijikata uncomfortable, with any luck.

~~~~~

Yukimura Chizuru was doing her best to stay calm, but it wasn’t easy.  For one thing, she’d heard all about Detective Okita’s good looks and bad-boy attitude, but she hadn’t expected to be, maybe, a little impressed with him.  Or affected by the good looks.  She’d never noticed anyone in that way before—that she knew of—and it was disconcerting.

More importantly, she was wondering how long she could keep coming up with reasonable explanations for knowing things she shouldn’t.  She was quite proud of having remembered the license plate anomaly.  Not that it wasn’t true!  She had noticed the dirt, exactly as stated.  The problem was that she’d only started putting together all the details after she’d suddenly realized that the police should be following the hearse, not the sports car.  And she didn’t think Okita-san would be keen on ‘I could sense a man dying from trauma injuries in the hearse’ as the real reason she’d wanted him to change directions.

[END of PART II]

Author’s Note:  Will this be continued?  Probably.  But when I got to 5000 words (a mere 5x what I’d planned), I decided I had to stop somewhere.  So there’s more already drafted, but other stories waiting to be written!

I hope you have/had a wonderful birthday, Eliz!!  And I hope you enjoyed the story! :)